


The Mercy Seat

by saltandbyrne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angsty Schmoop, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Implied Underage, M/M, Rimming, Sibling Incest, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-15
Updated: 2012-07-15
Packaged: 2017-11-09 23:56:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/459933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltandbyrne/pseuds/saltandbyrne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's going to hell, and what a way to burn...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mercy Seat

Dean knows he's going to hell, knows he signed away his ever-loving soul for one more year. But one more year of this? Most people don't get this in a lifetime of heavens.

Sammy. Warm, soft, living, breathing  _Sammy_ , spread out in front of him like an offering, like a testament to anything Dean's ever had faith in. Dean's not even sure he has a soul, never been sold on the whole god thing, all Dean knows is that everything he loves, everything he needs, was just given back to him, and he'd sell his soul a thousand times for this.

Sam, pink mouth open for him, Dean's hands in his hair, Sam startled by the fierceness of his kisses. Sam doesn't know, not yet, time for that later, right now, Dean just needs to get as much of both of them inside each other as he can get.

Dean's hands trailing down his back, every muscle memorized, fingers grazing over that scar, that hateful reminder of how Dean failed him. Dean wants to bite it, scratch it, mark it as his own, rub his junk all over it like some territorial dog. Because the only person who gets to take Sam apart and put him back together again is Dean.

"Baby boy, my Sammy..." Dean kisses into his mouth, sweet taste of Sammy's tongue the only thing he can think of. Even when they were apart, even when Dean was all alone with himself, getting off will always taste like Sam's mouth to him.

"Take such good care of you, baby..." Dean nuzzles down his jaw, soft scratch of stubble against his nose, that spot behind Sam's ear that always makes him breathe in sharply. "Need you, baby boy..." Soft lick at his ear, breath hot against it, goosebumps under his fingers as he wraps his arms tight around his baby brother and just breathes him in.

"Sammy, my Sammy..." Dean never wants to let him go, but he needs more of him, needs every inch of him, every perfect, custom-made, Dean's own brand of personal poison ounce of him.

Sam's sitting on the edge of the bed as Dean kneels in between his legs, licking a line down his stomach, Sam hiking his hips up to help Dean pull his boxers off, cock slapping against his belly, tiny blotch of precome left behind, little thwak noise of it hard-wired to Dean's brain to make his mouth water.

"Fuck, baby boy," sight of Sam, cock hard with that little bead of precome already leaking out because that's what Dean does to him, always has. Dean licks the shiny little smear off his stomach, Sam settling back on his elbows as he looks down at Dean.

Dean doesn't always look at Sam when he does this, but he's not taking his eyes off his baby brother, not right now, not as he licks his lips (perfect cocksucking lips, acts like he hates it when Sam says that, like it doesn't get him hard every time he hears it), mouth closing around the head, tongue flicking through the slit of his cock, Sammy groaning under him and pushing his hips forward, hand coming down to run through the spikes of Dean's hair.

Dean runs his tongue around the crown of Sam's cock a few more times, savoring the taste, salty perfect  _Sam_  taste of it, until he can't stand it any more, little reservoir of spit in the back of his mouth slicking the way down as he swallows his brother down his throat, Sam's eyes slanted almost shut as he calls out Dean's name, hazel eyes locked on green, brow furrowed in the little question that Sam always has to ask him, always so scared to let himself go, like Dean won't take everything he has to give.

Dean just nods at him, tiny little movement he's done god knows how many times, and Sam's hands are on his head, span of them across his skull a perfect fit (perfect cocksucking lips and perfect facefucking hands, both made for this), rough push on his head as he hits the back of Dean's throat and rocks up into him, relentless pace that leaves them both sweating and breathless, each clench of Dean's throat around Sam's cock making his eyes water.

The tears that run down Dean's face are just a reflex, just a side effect of Sam's huge cock hitting the back of his throat over and over, cutting off his air supply, nothing more. Really. He keeps his eyes open, won't miss a moment of this, even when Sam rolls his head back and screams, strangled  _DeanfuckDean_ torn out of him as Dean holds him there, hand pressing into the base of his own hard dick to stave himself off.

Sammy always comes first, always has, always will.

Dean doesn't want to swallow it yet, wants to hold it like white, hot proof of Sam's vitality, that he's fucking alive and he's  _Dean's_ , perfect baby boy who comes just for Dean, pools it in his mouth as Sam shudders into him, keeps it on his tongue as Sam pulls out of his mouth and lays back, chest heaving, knees falling open for Dean's hands as he spreads him open.

Thick swallow of Sam down this throat, burning his chest like a shot of whiskey, Sammy seeping into him, alive, he's  _alive_ , and he's right here, all for Dean, everything he's ever wanted, needed, prayed for, nothing else for either of them but the other.

Taste of Sam still on his tongue as he brings his lips to that dark, secret part of Sam that's just for Dean, knows he's the only one who can touch him like this, Sam so squeamish about it when they were younger, protesting the first few times Dean had kissed him there, protests turning into begging pleas as Dean memorized every little fold, mapped out every tiny pucker of skin with his tongue, drunk on the little broken noises Sam made as he worked his tongue into him that first time, opened him up just like that, fingers, come and spit the only things they had to work with in the backseat of his car, one of Dean's happiest memories.

Musky, earthy, rich  _Sammy_  scent of it still drives Dean as crazy as it did the first time, lips flush against him as he licks into him, Sammy moaning under him the best sound on earth, Dean's hands spreading him apart to work his tongue inside that ring of muscle, little  _Dean, please_  making him shudder before he slowly works his fingers into Sam, taking his time, mouth still on him as Sam grasps back at the three knuckles buried inside him.

Dean knows it's gonna hurt a little, knows Sam'll take it for him, wishes he had some lube or something better for him, but right now it's just them so he does the best he can, last push of spit from his mouth into Sam before he climbs in between his legs, dirty lick of his palm to slick himself up, head of his cock resting at Sam's entrance, generous blurt of his own precome helping to smooth the way a little.

“Always take care of you, baby boy...” Dean leaning down to kiss him as he pushes forward a tiny bit, head barely inside him as Sam groans into his mouth, stretch of it making Sam worry at his big brother's lip as Dean bears down, “So fucking good for me, Sammy, so good, baby,” tight little flutter around him as Sam relaxes and lets him in, slow, gritty slide into his baby brother stealing his breath away.

“Never leave you, Sammy,” Dean rasping out as he buries himself in Sam, rough kisses into each other's mouths as Dean starts to rock into him, his living, breathing, hot, tight, writhing baby brother coming apart under him, thrusting harder into him as Sam wraps himself around Dean, “My Sammy, my baby boy, all mine...”

Sam's staring into his eyes and sucking on his lower lip, childish soothing motion that Sam's been doing his whole life, before they started fucking, before they knew you weren't supposed to kiss your brother, when Sam was just scared and Dean was all he had, wrapped around him just like he is now, only comfort either of them ever needed right there with the other.

Dean's whole life has been for this, doesn't mean anything at all without Sam there under him, buried so deep in him they don't know where one starts and his brother ends, Sam locked on his mouth as his breath hitches and he lets out a little whine, barely audible  _Dee_  that just destroys Dean, reaches right down into the soul he never owned in the first place, it's always been Sammy's, rips it right out as he snaps his hips forward, deep as he can get as he comes,  _mybabySammyyesyesyes_ that falls from his lips closer to a plea for mercy than Sam will ever know.

Dean could die a thousand times, because no one has ever been this alive, and hell can just wait for now.

 

Title from [The Mercy Seat](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WFdUTM4gU-o) by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, although I'm partial to the [Johnny Cash cover](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZGGSTiDOjKU) myself.

_And the mercy seat is waiting_

_And I think my head is burning_

_And in a way I'm yearning_

_To be done with all this measuring of truth_

_An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth_

_And anyway I told the truth_

_And I'm not afraid to die._


End file.
